Easy to Decieve
by lielabell
Summary: She thinks of him all too often and misses him far too much. He stands at the edge of her life and wonders why.
1. In Her Words

I hate so much being alone. I feel it more when there are no others around to laugh and joke and for just a moment take all my memories away. I smile at them; my eyes clear and wide, while they do all the things that young people do. I don't show them what it is to be me.  
  
I sit in my room at night and dwell. It is not pleasant, but then nothing in my life is anymore. He took all the stars and sunshine with him when he left. All that remains is the simmering resentment and a love that has curdled like sour milk inside my breast.  
  
I am not at all unpopular. Somehow all my defiance has earned me a room full of friends along with the bitterness of defeat. So when the emptiness gets to be to heavy I floo to this friend or that and smile until my cheeks ache from it. I cannot say what it is that I am missing but missing it I am.  
  
How can I feel this way? It is not like what we had was all that enjoyable. Fights and sex and long nights of talking about nothing at all really shouldn't leave me with only tattered pieces of the girl I once was. He wasn't beautiful, not in the way that men are said to be. And he certainly wasn't at all charming. He was as cold and nasty as I am and yet somehow that only made the fire burn brighter.  
  
Everyone who knew about us says that this is for the best, that the lies and illusions brought on by our affair were not worth what they cost me to maintain them. But then those who know me best are not numbered among my friends now and so I do not take the word of my new found friends to heart.  
  
I have no defense. I have nothing I want to say. I have only the remnant of a love never meant to happen and the dreams of a girl fresh from the school room. It is no ones fault but my own that I am in such a state.  
  
Sometimes I let myself fall asleep in the shirts he left in the closet. I wrap myself up in the expensive fabrics and indulge in the fantasy that everything is as it ought to be and that he will come sauntering into the room full of smug satisfaction at the way I am nestled in his scent.  
  
In the closed confides of my flat I pull out the faded photographs taken of us. I trace his smiling face with a finger and watch as his aristo features are blurred by my tears. It is not so much the loss of him that eats at me; it is the loss of the girl I was with him.  
  
He had a way of raising one eyebrow at me when he thought I was with drawling into myself. Whenever that brow would go up I would find myself doing things I never dreamed of.  
  
His voice sent shivers down my spine and the steamy looks he gave me made my knees turn to jelly. Kissing him was like flying. His arms would wind themselves about me like vines; my body melding with his in ways that I know have ruined me for other men.  
  
Sometimes I wish I could convince myself that he didn't make the right choice, that the events that followed the end of our relationship were not worth the loss of it. Then I remember the look in his eyes when he said goodbye and I throw all thoughts of a life together back in the trash where they belong.  
  
For all that I love him I still have my pride. And even being alone isn't worth the loss of that. 


	2. Shattered Mirrors in His Eyes

You have everything I ever wanted resting in the palm of your hand and you can't even be bothered to clasp it. I watch you. I know you inside and out, so don't go bleating about injustice to me or mine. Was it worth it? Did ripping all those illusions aside warrant the cost?

Was it so hard to stand by my side? Do you ever think about the choices your actions forced me to make and wonder what life could have been like if you had been able to bend? But giving even an once of control to someone else is beyond you and in the in I have no one to blame for my heartache but myself.

I loved you once. With a passion so burning that it blinded me to who you really were. I lived for you. I longed for you. Just being in the same room as you brought me so much joy. I clung to your words, to your promises, as if they alone would keep the world spinning; I was content to sit and sigh and dream of a life you had no intention of living. But I wasn't a fool. No, I was something much worst than a fool. I was in love.

Love, such a pale word. There is no feeling to it, no way those four little letters can spell out what the emotion truly is. Love brought me so high that I thought I would never fall and then slammed me far lower then the ground I started out on. Love, the one thing everyone is looking for, the thing that is meant to be the be all and end all of our lives. Love. What rubbish.

Love is lie we tell ourselves. 

It is a way to sugarcoat the cravings we feel, a way to raise ourselves above the animals. Love is a rosebud on the verge of blooming; love is the touch of a mother; love is little girls sharing secrets and telling lies. Love is not what I felt for you. And yet it is. In some strange way, it is.

Would you laugh again if I said that? Would you tell me that my fairytale is over and to please move on? You did once before hence I see no reason why you wouldn't do so again. You are so very predictable. I did not think that you were, but in the end I was wrong about even that.

Sad as it may be, I still long for you, I still crave that hint of insanity you give off. I want to feel real hands on my body not the phantom touch of my memories. I want to wash your taste from my tongue. My mind and my heart tell me to keep you at bay and yet I find myself ever in your presence. Not enough to draw notice but there, on the side lines, staring at you as if I still have some meaning.

You smile until your face could crack from it, you play by the sick rules that life has so aptly taught you. I stand in your shadow and wonder if the flame that draws me to you is only a reflection of the light around you. How can you live in the way that you do without becoming a sick mockery of what you were destined to be? How can you play all your little games and not be twisted by them?

I was so happy when you let me in, so drunk on your kisses that I forgot my family's warnings. For one endless moment I believed that water and oil can mix, that the combination of opposites adds to the whole. I guess I can be forgiven for reaching for impossible things. I was, after all, very young. 

But I am not young anymore. I have been shaped by the years between then and now. I would hope for the better, but only you can know that. You and those bedroom eyes. Is this what I have come to? I am really so low that I am willing to stay out of your sight while dreaming my dreams of you?

Do you know I am here? Do you feel the weight of my stares? Do you ever dream of me as I dream of you? Does your body remember the feel of mine? If I offered you my world, would you take it? Would you be able to stomach your pride, to rein in the cruelty you treat yourself to? If I stepped into the light would you reflect me? If I reached for you would you come to me still? Would you bite the apple if I held it to your lips?

I think not. 

And because of that I will never again give voice to the offers I have yet to withdraw. 


End file.
